Destination Truth The Nan Madol Curse
by JackSparrowsBooty
Summary: A continuation of the investigation of Nan Madol, the purportedly haunted Micronesian island. Josh Gates has been stricken with a mysterious illness and is facing a dangerous trek back to civilization. How will his team get him back to the United States?
1. Apologies for the Vomiting

The Team:

Josh Gates (Host, Lead Investigator)

Ali Zubik (Field Investigator)

Gabe Copeland (Camera Operator)

Mike Morrell (Audio Engineer)

Shawn Goodwin (Medic)

Vanessa Smith (Tech Manager)

Bobby Pura (Co-Producer, Investigator)

Dan Ramirez (Director, Camera Operator)

* * *

What dumb luck.

Josh Gates, esteemed traveler, archeologist, and host of his own Syfy television show _Destination Truth_ is sitting on a moist rock, palming his clammy, sweat-soaked face, wondering just how in the hell he has found himself in this kind of scenario that really, truly compromises his safety. Not to mention places an incredible burden on his team of investigators—his friends—to carry him back to his Los Angeles home. His body feels worn down and heavy and this has nothing to do with his six foot two inch frame or that he is up at three o'clock in the morning.

He moves his left hand away from his eyes, sliding it down over his mouth, willing his stomach to quit churning. His medic Shawn has his right arm hooked up to an intravenous drip, which is returning some of the much needed electrolytes to his ravaged body. Getting violently ill at home is one thing, because at least one has the wonderful luxury of a hospital within five minutes of any given location, kind of like a convenience store, and the continual presence of a nearby toilet,; however, puking repeatedly all over the balmy forest floor of the tiny tropical island of Pohnpei, Micronesia in the South Pacific is downright dangerous. Considering the trekking distance he and his crew had to undergo just to be there in the first place quietly scares him, because an average person needs a special kind of endurance to manage it. He'd need every ounce of energy under normal circumstances, but this has ceased to be what one would consider "normal." Not only did the entire team of eight have to paddle to Nan Madol in shoddy sailboats across the ocean until they reached the manmade canals and Venetian-style islands, but they had to hike six long, arduous miles inland with hundreds of pounds of gear just to get to their boats. And, not to mention, fly a mind-numbing 33 hours over the Pacific—LA to Guam, and Guam to Pohnpei.

The things Josh does for his viewers.

The crew is currently hard at work on the fourth season of the show; Josh had been excited to not only visit a location he'd never been, but he was getting the chance to work with Ali. Normally, he'd take Erin Ryder along for her camaraderie, and also for her muscle. She'd had prior engagements, so she could not come. Ali is strong, but much more feminine than her female counterpart and Josh had looked forward to this.

Now it seems he must make himself look like a jackass in front of her. He can be a bit lumbering at times so appearing clumsy isn't anything new, but he'd probably spent too much time savoring the attention of the locals and showing off in front of her and the cameras. Now he is truly a mess. Ali hasn't seen this side of Josh like Ryder has, no doubt when he and the gang had partied a little _too _hard, as well as the occasional maladies courtesy of food poisoning or bad water—he'd wanted Ali to avoid witnessing the ungainly, sick side of him. He'd practically begged Gabe and Dan to quit filming him in this embarrassing moment, but he knows his audience, especially those who had requested this investigation, will wonder why the episode is cut short. He knows they'll need some sort of explanation, so he'll allow some of his misery on footage, as long as it's not too gratuitous just for some kind of closure.

The dark forest around him buzzes with life, and his friends are whispering softly to each other, passing him the sporadic concerned glance. Ali is more of a mother hen than he expects. She has taken her post next to him, rubbing his shoulder and then his back when he has to lean over during a spell of inexorable retching. Josh wants to lie down, but the adventurer inside of him longs to search these ruins that are virtually unexplored by humans—a result of the fear of Pohnpei's residents and the ignorance of the rest of the world.

"Hey," he mutters, jaw tense to avoid allowing his teeth to chatter. He is pouring sweat and probably feverish. The entire crew turns their heads, likely to gauge his level of awareness or delirium. They rely on him quite a bit for guidance since he's a natural leader, and the highest trained investigator. "Why waste the night? Why don't you guys explore the rest of the ruins? I'll stay here with V." He nods at Vanessa, who has covered her sandy blond dreadlocks with the hood of a raincoat.

They stare at him uncertainly, clearly not sure how to proceed without their running man. Shit.

Dan, always using the mind of a director, speaks out. "Josh, man, we don't have a show without you. What good is the episode without the host?"

Josh's mind flashes over occurrences on _Ghost Hunters_ in which Grant Wilson or Jason Hawes, the two leads and hosts of the show will occasionally have to bow out or split mid-episode to take care of family issues or one happens to fall ill and decides to let the others continue. "What about _Ghost Hunters_?" he asks, then realizes he sounds disoriented when he lets the question hang in suspension.

Ali gazes over at Mike, who is crouched on the other side of Josh. "What about them?" she queries, and actually appears nervous.

The smell of damp, rotting vegetation wafts in the air when Gabe moves his camera out of the infernal tropical rain to a dry location. The smell reminds him of the potent, grassy cocktail the Pohnpei chief had him drink before the expedition, and the reminder of its taste somehow settles on the back of his tongue. Josh considers that he is just toying with the strength of his gag reflex at this point. His hand flies back up to his face and he makes a small, discomforting groan. Everyone moves back in anticipation.

The inevitable happens, and he is soon keeled over pitifully, dry-heaving into a pile of marsh that probably has a nest of spiders or fire ants in it. He heaves over and over but he has nothing left inside of him so nothing comes up.

Shawn frowns in his direction, the medical concern showing through. "Josh, why don't you crash in the tent? We'll keep watch in shifts and we'll let you know if something happens. You need some rest, especially after losing so much water and nutrients. When you wake up, we'll try to get you rehydrated before we start heading back."

Josh gazes at the troupe with tired eyes, not in the mood to put up any resistance. It feels as though he has been stuffed into a sauna, and the oppressive weight of the intense humidity and tropical heat practically steals his breath. He is exhausted and really should heed to Shawn's warning. He's the medic and Josh has always trusted his opinion. It goes beyond trust anyway. The reality is that he has one hell of a long day tomorrow. Places like this eat up weakness and spit it out worse than before. He'll sleep this strange stomach thing off and with hope, tonight will just be an ugly memory. He's most likely seen the worst of it anyway.

Josh nods and crawls into the tent that he is sharing with Bobby, Mike, and Gabe. _Sorry in advance, guys, for any of the vomiting_, he thinks. His body is immediately grateful when he lies down on his sleeping bag. He lets his mind wander over the fatal illness that Governor Berg suffered after excavating the warrior's remains, but banishes it just as quickly as it had entered. _Just folk tales_, he reflects, ignoring the lurch of his stomach. _They're not real. Curses are just sicknesses attached to stories._

He's sure of it.

The next thing Josh recalls is awakening to filtered sunlight and the gentle sound of rainfall and the wildlife of the surrounding forest. He is somewhat thirsty, but he feels like a groggy deadweight and doesn't want to budge from his spot. His body must still be compensating for the lack of food and water, because he feels horribly drained of energy.

He slowly moves into a sitting position, and the rustling noise of his sleeping bag and clothes draws the attention of someone. An unzipping sound erupts from the outside and Shawn's head pokes through the hole, and he studies Josh curiously with a practiced eye.

"Hey, Gates!" he greets, and unzips the tent entirely to climb in. "How're you feeling? You almost slept the day away."

Josh rubs his eyes and wonders exactly what time it is. "How long did I sleep?"

Shawn sidles up next to him and grabs his wrist to take his pulse. "Well, it's 3:30. You went to sleep about eleven or twelve hours ago."

The news should be surprising, but he's in no mood to react appropriately. All he can think about is the long ass boat ride and hike back to civilization that he is not looking forward to. "Wow," is all he musters, watching the medic's movements.

"Your pulse is a little thready and you're pretty pale, man. You feeling up to eating anything? Mike's got a few bananas if you want them. It's light, which is just what you need for your empty stomach."

Josh would rather saw off his own leg than eat at the moment. But he knows that he needs to in order to regain his strength. "Yeah, I think I'll try one."

His friend touches his forehead quickly. "You're a little warm, but it could be from sleep." Shawn pushes the sleeve of Josh's coat up and takes his blood pressure. Shawn doesn't say anything, just stoically records it to memory. "I'll go grab some water and a banana for you."

"Thanks, Shawn," Josh mutters. The thought of any kind of food causes his midsection to flip flop, and that's never a good sign. He can hear the tittering of laughter a few yards away, and he creeps out of the tent to join in with the rest of the crowd.

The group has made a makeshift circle out of the nearby rocks and rotting trunks of decaying trees. They immediately look in his direction as soon as he stands to his fullest height.

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" Dan calls. "Thought you'd never wake up! You feeling better today?"

Josh half-smiles in uncertainty, and he can see everyone's faces draw up in unease. They know that his journey back will be the most difficult if he cannot keep anything down.

* * *

To be continued...


	2. Please go away Often

Josh nibbles on the banana with frustration, dismayed at the churning inside his abdomen. _Please stay down_, he begs silently. He tips back a bottle of lukewarm water, taking in a tiny sip and forcing it down a throat that tries to refuse it. He hopes that this will do the trick, but a niggling voice inside his head says that this is far from over.

Josh's gut resolutely denies any further nourishment. The very thought of ingesting anything else creates turmoil inside. He does not want to tempt fate and choke down anything additional, lest he end up keeled over yet again. He's already weak enough.

"Gotta eat more than a couple bites, my friend." Gabe mutters.

"I can't," Josh says through clenched teeth. "Not yet anyway. Give my stomach a little time to digest."

Bobby is quietly immersed in a discussion with Dan about what their options are at the moment. Josh listens as intently as possible, straining his ears to hear the whispered conversation. "We need to get moving," Bobby says as he glances at the _Destination Truth_host nervously. "We let him sleep too long and now we're going to start losing daylight. We could stay another night here, but I'm not sure we have enough food and water supplies for everyone."

"Yeah, stay in this creepy place again? No thanks. And not to mention all of our clothes are damp and no one else can afford to get sick," adds Dan. He scratches his head worriedly.

Josh sighs, and then swallows drily. "Hey, don't worry guys. I'll be ready to go in a minute."

The two men glance at him, but it is Ali who acts as the voice of reason. "Josh, you can't even keep anything down. You won't be able to make it back in this condition. We should wait another night and then head back."

"It's just a little hike back to Pohnpei and hopping an airplane, and I haven't puked in hours. Give me a moment and I'll be fine."

Mike scoffs as he sits on a mossy tree log. "Yeah, that little hike includes paddling across the bay, walking six miles with gear, and then waiting a few hours on their tiny airstrip for our plane ride to Guam and then a 30 hour flight home. You ready for that? Makes me tired just thinking about it."

Josh grimaces, not because he's considering the physical strain of their trek, but rather the effort he must put forth to push away the feeling of nausea.

Vanessa is watching him steadily. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're looking a little green, dude."

He tries to ignore the sensation and force his body to deal with it. He's seen amazing feats accomplished while looking like he'd keel over with a light push. He's seen one of his dearest friends climb Mount Kilimanjaro while suffering from pulmonary edema and pretty much close to death. If his friend can make such a monumental accomplishment while ill, he can certainly withstand this little vomiting bug.

He exhales uneasily when he can feel that same sensation wash over him yet again. _Not again._

Despite trying to quell the nausea, Josh finds himself clambering away from the campsite to spew what little he has ingested, although he only makes it a few feet. He heaves violently and when the sensation dies down, he is trembling feebly. _Oh, this isn't good. This is not good._

A hand touches his shoulder. "Hey, Gates. You okay, man?" comes Mike's concerned voice.

"Hang on. I don't know if I'm done yet," Josh mutters, spitting the bile from his mouth. He knows he has to get his gear packed and pick up camp. The team needs to move onward back to the little skiffs they sailed in on and they must do it quickly, because the longer he is away from civilization the more he and his team are compromised. And the fact that he can't keep water down is an ominous sign of trouble.

The quicker they can get off of this island, the better. If he'll need medical intervention—more than Shawn can provide—then the team will need to be, at the very least, away from the inlets of Nan Madol and further into the tiny volcanic island where the main city is located. He'd prefer, of course, a hospital in the United States, but he'll take what he can get if push comes to shove.

Ali and Dan both look to Josh. He clears his throat. "I think we need to pack everything up and get moving. Once we cross the water, it's only six miles. We'll take it slow if Josh needs to rest."

Ali looks at him in shock. "Are you nuts? That's six miles through dense wilderness. It's not like we're crossing a flat surface. And we all have heavy packs to carry. I say we wait until tomorrow, because it's less of a risk."

"Let's put it to a vote, then," Vanessa says as Josh creeps miserably back over to the group to settle his weary back against a large rock.

After taking a poll, the team decides, not without heated debate between Ali and Gabe and the rest that the troupe will head out that night despite the sinking sun in the Eastern skies and the risk of sailing through foreign, and possibly shark-infested waters in the darkness.

Josh can only resignedly acquiesce, meagerly preparing his items for the long way home. Shawn has his arm once again hooked up to an IV line. His middle is ravaged—and in a horribly unpleasant way that means he has spent an inordinate amount of time away from the others and leaving an unsightly mark on the pristine tropical forests of Nan Madol. As he crouches behind a large group of trees, all he can think is that he _really _wants a very long shower. He feels sweaty, smelly, and filthy. Not that this is the first time he's experienced such a condition, but he's never had to deal with being in such a remote location in the world without the immediate opportunity to clean himself.

He rejoins the group eventually, breathing a sigh of acceptance. They'll make it through. It won't be fun, but they have no choice in the matter.


End file.
